The Latest Ailment of Advancing Age

I'm getting suspicious of Philadelphia -- or maybe paranoid is the word I'm looking for. Six years ago almost to the day, I was standing up in the Philadelphia division of the U.S. Bankruptcy Court for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania speaking on behalf of a client, when I suddenly experienced what it must feel like to be kicked in the belly by a mule. Diverticulitis! An intestinal blockage of intensity and pain I wouldn't wish on even that tinhorn corporate micro-midget who had me so mad several weeks ago. But time passed and the medical care system worked its wonders. After two major abdominal operations and the considerable indignity of pooping into a leaky colostomy bag for three months, it appeared my old chocolate channel was back in tip-top shape. Yesterday I was sitting in a roomful of people attending the August 2009 Philadelphia Sheriff's judicial sale of foreclosed properties, bidding on behalf of a client. And yes, friends, that damn mule came along and kicked me in the gut again. It felt just like what I remembered of that diverticulitis attack of yesteryear. So once again I drove home from Philadelphia in extreme discomfort, only this time dreading a repeat of past sufferings. After a brief eternity in the emergency room waiting area, the requisite inquiries into my insurance coverages, more waiting, the surrender of several gallons of blood, more waiting, an X-ray, more waiting, a CT scan and more waiting, all made bearable by a couple of hits of morphine, I received the medics' verdict ... Kidney stone. Great was the rejoicing in my heart at that pronouncement! No surgery! No leaky colostomy bag! Just a day or two of gritting my teeth while the offending bit of crystalline matter works its way through the system -- like a golf ball through a garden hose -- and leaves me a free man once again. At least until the next time I go to Philadelphia.